Vice and Void (The Savage Wolves Brotherhood #1)

13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Callum

“Smooth, brother,” Kane said coolly as he read over the instructions Dakota had jotted down. “Real fucking smooth.”

Callum scowled. “What?”

Kane glanced up, looked at Dylan, and then scoffed. “Don’t say what like that. You know exactly what . Your ex-fiancée is here to help us, and you chase her off with sex jokes when she's asking about Lyra?”

Callum put on a hard smile that ground his teeth, something resembling shame braiding with his burning agitation. “She wasn’t my fiancée.”

Kane blinked before glowering. “So the ring you were going to propose with isn’t still sitting in Dad’s old safe at the house?”

“Shut up, Kane.”

The front door opened with a bang of the handle against the back wall, a hot, stiff breeze curling into the room. The door shut, quieter this time, and Rocco followed on Ace’s heels.

“Saw her drive off,” Ace said as he threw himself onto the couch. He nodded a quick greeting to Dylan, more than he deemed Dakota worthy of, and added, “That was fucking quick.”

“Callum made sure of that,” Kane said under his breath. Callum sent him another scowl .

“And?” Ace demanded, his eyes darting between Callum and Kane. “Is someone going to say how it went?” He lifted his hips and dug in his pocket, pulling out a small vial filled with a distinct milky liquid. He popped the cork and knocked back the Euphoric distill, groaning as he slumped deeper into the couch cushions. Dylan shook his head, turning his stare toward the ceiling.

“Dude!” Kane cried out, wildly gesturing toward Ace. “I could have fucking used that! Where did you get it?”

Ace's eyes slipped closed, and a small smile quirked the corner of his lips. “Remnants of the warehouse explosion. Went over it this morning with Duke.”

Callum plucked the vial from Ace’s relaxed hand. “Next time you come across one, give it to Kane. We’re already on a close deadline without you inhaling the rest of our stock like a rabid fucking animal.”

Ace cracked one eye open to peek at Callum. “One distill wasn’t going to make or break the Syndicate.” He sunk further into the couch with a quick shimmy of his shoulders. “Besides, it was a gift from the Lead. Duke found some intel about Raven’s murder and wanted to pass it on.”

Rocco and Callum exchanged glances. Luckily, Ace didn’t seem to catch it.

“What kind of intel?” Callum asked warily. There was a rugged twist to his gut when Ace's eyes shuttered closed, his breathing deepening. “Ace.”

Ace was startled awake, his gummy, bleary gaze squinting open as he rolled his head from the back of the couch long enough to say, “What?” His neck craned back again, and he was out with a soft snore.

Rocco let out a sigh and shook his head. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know he had it.”

“He’s gonna fucking find it where he fucking finds it. Nothing short of tying him up in the basement of my house is going to make him stop.”

Dylan snorted. “We’ve got the holding cell at the Ranger office. Could always toss him in there for a few days.”

“If I didn’t think he would need medical attention when he came down, I would consider it.” Callum shook his head as Kane neatly stacked the papers and slid them into the bag he plopped on the table. “He would also get so fucking loud that John Montgomery would have no other choice but to shoot him.”

Dylan huffed a laugh.

Rocco pulled out the chair and dropped into the seat. “Speaking of Montgomery, what was Dakota doing here?” He leaned back, propping his feet onto the table .

Kane rocketed from his chair, throwing the bag’s strap over his shoulder. “I’m headed out. Give me a call after she goes to the Fieldhouse.”

A fraught, heavy silence fell over the room as Kane damn near ran for the exit. Coward. Callum already knew this would be one of the hardest conversations he ever had with Rocco, but it needed to be done. It couldn’t wait any longer.

Callum ignored the weight in his chest and the sour taste in his mouth as he settled in Kane’s empty seat. “When was the last time you talked to Lyra?”

Rocco sucked a tooth. “We got into that fight a week ago, man. Something about her wanting more of a commitment. I don’t know. It was fucking stupid. She hasn’t called or texted me since.”

“And you’ve tried calling her?”

Rocco casually shrugged as he picked at his fingernails. “She’s got me blocked again. Phone went straight to voicemail.”

Dylan slowly walked forward, removed his cap, and settled opposite Rocco’s seat. The couch groaned when Ace shifted. He let out another soft snore, head lulling to his shoulder.

“And her parents? Talked to them?”

“No, man, you know they wrote me off like six years ago.” Rocco paused. His gaze flicked between Callum and Dylan before he slowly put his feet back on the floor. “What’s with the third degree?”

“Rocco—“

“No, don’t do that,” Rocco started, pointing a finger at Callum. “Don’t fucking do that. Did something happen to Lyra?”

There was no path forward that didn’t end with Rocco flipping the table and tossing a chair across the room. Rocco’s fingers clenched and unclenched, wrapping into white-knuckled fists. Dylan's unrelenting stare remained fixed on Rocco, his knee bouncing beneath the table. Callum mastered himself long enough to spit the words out.

“Lyra is missing.”

Rocco stilled so completely that it was almost inhuman. “What did you say?” That question came out lethally quiet—a hushed warning not requiring an answer but cautioning Callum to choose his next words carefully.

“Five days ago,” Callum went on, not backing down from the smoldering intensity that radiated from Rocco. They were walking on eggshells now, sprinkled like landmines between them. “When Dakota came to see me at the shop yesterday, it was to ask me to look into Lyra’s disappearance. She was concerned about a phone call they had been on when Lyra went missing.”

As predicted, Rocco pushed out of his seat, picked up the chair, and threw it against the wall. One of the legs split off before it fell to the worn carpet with a loud crash. Ace didn’t twitch.

“You’ve been keeping this from me since yesterday?” Rocco roared as his fist slammed against the table. “ Yesterday , Callum?”

Callum let his arms rest against the table’s edge as Rocco’s chest heaved with breaths he struggled to catch. “I wanted to get more information before I involved you.” He inclined his head toward Dylan, who watched Rocco as though debating whether he needed to involve himself yet. “That’s part of the reason he’s here. I also needed—“

Rocco’s expression opened as realization seemed to strike him. “You made a fucking deal with Dakota, didn’t you? She came to ask for your help, and you used it as a fucking opportunity to string her into this shit with the Syndicate.”

“I did what I needed to do to secure the—“

“You don’t get to use Lyra in the fucking process, Callum!” Rocco was shaking with restrained rage, his stare flashing. Callum didn’t relent. “After everything, everything I’ve fucking done for you and this club and with Dakota—“

“Be very careful what comes out of your mouth next,” Callum cut him off, allowing Rocco to hear the threat that laced his voice. Silence fell between the two for a long minute, the tense wariness of predator assessing predator.

Finally, Rocco broke his stare, dropping his eyes to the table. He seemed to cool, his chin falling to his chest as he scrubbed his hand along his jaw. “What happened to her?”

“We don’t know,” Callum said, softening the warning from his tone. “I’ve contacted the charters in Blackdon and Penham with her picture and description. Dylan has his ear to the ground if she pops up in the Fieldhouse.”

Rocco’s red-rimmed gaze slid toward Dylan. “You think she’s at the Fieldhouse?”

“I don’t know, Rocco. I’m just helping chase down every lead.”

“Is she marked?” Callum asked Rocco, not lessening the severity of the question.

But Rocco just shook his head. “No, she’s not marked. That's something I would have noticed immediately.”

Callum’s chest tightened at his best friend’s vacant stare. Rocco sagged back in the nearest seat, rubbing his temple with the heel of his palm. Rocco felt everything deeply. Callum knew that as well as he knew himself. He internalized things and periodically examined them like trophies on a shelf before storing them back in the recesses of his soul.

“We’ve gotta find her,” Rocco pressed on, his voice coarse and cracking. “I can’t—I won’t—“

“I know, man, I know,” Callum said, leaning over to place a supportive hand on Rocco’s shoulder. “I’ll burn this city to the fucking ground before I let anything else happen to her.” Lyra may be Dakota’s best friend, but she was raised on the same street Callum and Ace grew up on. She was family, and no one fucked with family.

“Thanks, brother,” Rocco replied. He lifted a hand to wipe the corners of his eyes. Callum pretended not to notice.

Dylan pulled a face at the chime from his pocket, and he tugged the phone from his pocket. He scanned the home screen before letting out an irritated grunt. “Ethan Sullivan’s here. He’s already seen my cruiser.”

Callum frowned. “Why is Ethan Sullivan here?”

Dylan stood from the chair, grabbed his cap from the table, and shoved it back onto his head. “My best guess? Dakota.”

Callum’s confusion evolved into annoyance. He had no claim to Dakota’s dating life, and it wasn’t any of his fucking business who she messed with. But him ? Asshole extraordinaire and the mini-version of her dickhead father? Once upon a time, the thought of being jealous of Ethan- fucking -Sullivan was laughable. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to shake it. Dylan must have seen something in Callum’s expression because he snickered.

“It's all one-sided, man. She’s turned him down at every opportunity. It’s been driving John fucking crazy.”

Callum clung to his steel mask of indifference, allowing it to cloud whatever Dylan clocked on his face. “I’m not worried. Who she does is not my fucking problem.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dylan retorted in a tone clearly conveying that he didn’t believe Callum for a single second. “Walk with me. Pretend I came to interview Rocco or some shit.”

Gesturing for him to lead the way, Callum stepped around the long table, over the broken chair leg that lay haphazardly next to Ace’s foot, and followed Dylan to the front door. Dylan tugged the door open, and over the Ranger’s shoulder, Callum spotted Ethan scrutinizing the motorcycles parked on the lawn.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Callum asked as he stepped into the blinding sun. The cracked pavement absorbed the heat, drying the air. He was glad he left his motorcycle cut in the club—the leather would have been stifling in the warmth of the afternoon. And he wanted free range to throw a punch if needed .

Ethan straightened when Callum sauntered toward him, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his jeans. “What are you doing here?” Ethan asked Dylan, ignoring Callum’s question entirely. “Your detail doesn't come this far.”

“Doing Dakota Montgomery a favor,” Dylan lied smoothly. His calm demeanor and cool tone stood in stark contrast to Ethan's immediate aggression. “She called me this morning. Wanted me to look into the disappearance of Lyra Jones. I came by on my way off duty to talk with Rocco Moretti.”

Ethan bristled, and something about the stiffness of his shoulders and tightness to the corners of his eyes made Callum uneasy.

“Don’t concern yourself with it. I’ve got it handled," Ethan said. "I talked to her yesterday.”

“I’ll concern myself with it because you’re standing on Brotherhood property, and you still haven’t told me why,” Callum said, folding his arms over his chest.

The corners of Ethan’s lips quirked up in a way that could have been construed as a smile if not for his bared teeth. “Have a good day now. Don’t get yourself into too much trouble.”

Callum didn’t take his eyes from where he fixed them between Ethan’s shoulder blades until the Ranger was safely in his car and driving away. Dylan began to walk toward his cruiser, the gravel crunching beneath his heavy boots. He paused with his hand resting on the handle, glancing over his shoulder toward Callum, who finally tore his glare away from Ethan’s taillights.

“Do you remember Victoria Mitchell from school? She left a few years before graduation and moved to a small town outside Penham with her folks?”

“Where're you going with this?”

Dylan pulled the door open. “Do you remember why she left?”

“Yeah, of course. Ethan, he—“ Callum trailed off, understanding pulsing through his body as though it were a living thing. “You don’t think…”

“I don’t know,” Dylan replied, stepping into the cruiser. “What I do know is that Dakota has been vocal about her rejections toward Ethan, and they’ve continued.”

Callum pressed his lips together and shook his head. He remembered Victoria Mitchell, alright. Her parents had done everything to get Ethan to stop stalking their daughter—from reporting him to the school’s administration to talking to the Iron Guard. The persistence never stopped, thanks to the lack of action taken by the adults at the time. Paired with the boys will be boys mentality of those surrounding Ethan .

He just thought Ethan outgrew it.

“I’ll keep a closer eye on him,” Dylan said as he shut the cruiser's door. He leaned through the open window. “But keep a low profile while he’s poking around. Hopefully, I’m wrong, but—“

“If he keeps showing up here, he’ll eventually find a reason to stay.” Callum blew out a breath. “She’s a grown woman who can take care of herself. But let me know if I need to step in.”

Dylan smirked. He turned the key in the ignition, and the engine growled to life. The scent of exhaust spilled into the lot. “I’m sure she would love that.”

“She doesn’t have to know.” Callum cleared his throat and took a step closer to the cruiser. “One more thing. Has anything moved on Raven’s case?”

Dylan contemplated him for a moment before shaking his head. “The needle hasn’t moved on it since the day she was killed.” He sat back in his seat. “Are you referring to the intel Ace claimed Duke had?”

“Yeah, it just doesn’t add up. I don’t know why Duke would—“

Dylan shook his head. “Listen, Callum. Ace was fucked up. He’s been fucked up. But you can’t keep chipping away at this divide you’ve got going on with Duke. You two have done nothing but clash since the moment you got out of prison. If you aren’t careful, you’ll bark up the wrong tree, and it’ll take the whole club down with it.”

Callum watched Dylan drive away, and despite everything falling apart around him, he had the unexpected urge to consult his father’s journal for the first time in days.